Griffey wouldn't be first aging star to return to scene of prime

When Tom Seaver returned to the Mets in December 1982, he was treated like returning royalty.

Yet Seaver, acquired in a trade for three players, was coming off a dismal season for the Reds in which he had gone 5-13 with a 5.50 earned-run average.

No one knew quite what the Mets were getting — the greatest player in club history, or a vague facsimile.

"I don't know what the public will remember or expect," Seaver said at a crowded news conference at Shea Stadium. "I'm not going to go out next season with a sign saying, 'It's 1983 and I'm 38 years old.' "

"When I pitch, I still have to get Pete Rose and Mike Schmidt out. ... They want me to come back here and be Tom Seaver."

And therein lies the rub for stars like Tom Seaver — and, possibly, Ken Griffey Jr. — that go back to the scene of their prime.

Fans, the media and often the players themselves desperately want to turn back the clock, but defying nature is not a reasonable expectation.

While glittering homecomings aren't doomed to failure, history shows that they work best when the player isn't counted on to be a reincarnation of his younger, most productive self.

It turned out Seaver wasn't Tom Seaver at all in 1983 — at least not the one that fans had remembered so fondly. He went 9-14 in 34 starts and departed after the season, when the Mets left him unprotected in the quirky compensation draft in place that year.

The White Sox, who had a pick coming to them for losing free agent Dennis Lamp, grabbed Seaver — to the intense embarrassment of Mets general manager Frank Cashen, who admitted that he had made a terrible misjudgment in exposing Seaver.

The fact that he was far more Seaveresque in Chicago, winning 31 games over the next two years, didn't make the departure any easier to take. Nor did the fact that when Seaver went into the Hall of Fame with the highest vote percentage in history, it was as a Met.

A far more fortuitous return was orchestrated by the Giants in 1977, when beloved Willie McCovey, aged 39 and hobbled by creaky knees (same age and malady as Griffey, come to think of it), returned to Candlestick after three seasons in San Diego and Oakland.

It was hardly a gaudy spectacle, however, which was exactly the way the low-key McCovey wanted it. "Stretch," as he was called, came to camp without a contract for essentially a six-week tryout.

"I can still hit 30 home runs," McCovey told The New York Times in March. "I'm still capable of leading the league every day if I play every day."

That might have been a tad excessive, but McCovey made the team and had a productive season, hitting .280 with 28 homers and 86 RBI in 141 games. More important, he received a hero's welcome all season from the Candlestick fans and a worshipful reception in the Giants' clubhouse.

"That was a tremendous thrill for me, to be in the same locker room and feel his presence," said former Giants pitcher Dave Heaverlo, who lives in Moses Lake.

"When Mac would walk into the room, it was like the whole atmosphere changed. What an honor to be around a player of his magnitude. We all felt that way."

And on the field?

"In 1977, he was still a feared hitter," Heaverlo said. "He brought that presence to the batter's box. Granted, his hand-eye coordination was deteriorating because of age, and also his bat speed — as Griffey's will — but you knew if you made a mistake, he'd make you pay for it. Even if they're not in the lineup that day, Griffey or McCovey, you still have that threat."

McCovey's numbers declined in 1978 (12 homers and 64 RBI in 108 games), but it was still a positive year because the Giants were surprise contenders in the National League West, winning 89 games.

When McCovey's body broke down for good in 1980 and he retired, his second San Fran stint was deemed an unqualified success by most observers.

Many notable returns in baseball history have been to different teams in the same city — including former Milwaukee Brave Hank Aaron to the Brewers in 1975, and former New York Giant Willie Mays to the Mets in 1972.

Though Mays made it to the World Series with the Mets the next year, his stumbling performance in the outfield has become the embodiment of a lapsed star trying to hang on beyond his time.

That certainly described Babe Ruth in 1935, when the Bambino returned to Boston with the National League Braves, believing it was the best route to fulfill his desire to manage.

However, Ruth was a dismal version of the brilliant star who had played six seasons in Boston for the Red Sox before blossoming to legend status in New York. His fielding was so pathetic that three pitchers threatened to walk off the team if Ruth were in the lineup.

Ruth hit just .181 and retired on June 1 — but not before summoning one last burst of star power six days earlier. He homered three times in a game against the Pirates, the last one clearing the roof at Forbes Field.

Other major stars who returned to their initial team for one last fling, albeit with less panache than the Babe, included Tony Perez and Pete Rose to the Reds (1984 for both, a dalliance that would not end well for Rose, brought in to be a player-manager with an unanticipated sidelight as a gambler); Reggie Jackson to the A's (1987); Phil Niekro to the Braves (for one ceremonial start in 1987); Don Sutton to the Dodgers (1988); Gary Carter to the Expos (1992); Eddie Murray to the Orioles (1996, for a stint that included his 500th home run); Rickey Henderson to the A's (the last time in 1998); and Tom Glavine to the Braves (2008).

Technically, the return of a 39-year-old Ken Griffey to the site of his greatest exploits has already occurred, successfully, 20 years ago.

In 1989, the Reds re-signed free agent Ken Griffey Sr. just two days before opening day. He had actually returned to the club late in the 1988 season, after more than seven years away, when the Braves released him. But Griffey played sporadically and was released by the Reds after the season.

Then-manager Rose, however, convinced management they needed Griffey, a major contributor to the legendary Big Red Machine in the 1970s. They signed him one day after his 19-year-old son, a much-heralded rookie, was named starting center fielder for the Mariners.

The two would be famously, and gloriously, united in Seattle, culminating in father-son, back-to-back homers in 1990 off Kirk McCaskill, one of Junior's numerous signature moments with the Mariners.

"I was always associated with the Reds, having been in the organization for 15 or 16 years, so it's good to be back," Griffey Sr. said shortly after signing. "It's really a joy for me. I was glad a team like the Reds wanted me back."

A different Griffey could soon be uttering similar words, just substituting Mariners for Reds, if the Braves don't swoop in and sign him first.

Do we want him to, paraphrasing Seaver, come back here and be Ken Griffey Jr.?

In name and charisma, of course. In nostalgic flashes, definitely. But in performance, a bi\t of realism is in order.

Larry Stone: 206-464-3146 or lstone@seattletimes.com